SMILE

By Peshie Needleman

Courtesy of Family First Magazine

A week before my bechor’s bar mitzvah, we were floundering with all the last minute details.  A year of leining lessons, hours of shopping for just the right clothes for every member of the family, agonized decisions over tablecloths and bentschers and invitations—all that was behind us.  We were psyched up and ready for the day to come.  The day that would bring beauty and nachas, friends and family, all in one big magnificent occasion.

I was outside in my backyard with the photographer.  We had opted to have him take photos of our immediate family at home first and then at the bo b’yom seuda later on.  My husband, Lavi, owns Hatzlocha Landscaping and our front and back yards are lovely.  We thought the ‘informals’ would look best taken against the beautiful backdrop of nature.  I was very, very busy explaining to the photographer that he would have to try hard to get a good, natural smile of my bar mitzvah boy, as his smiles are usually stilted and fake looking.  I wanted a real smile for this auspicious occasion!

The next night, I was busy at the computer when Tzvi walked in.  I was only half paying attention to him as he talked when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something that wasn’t right.  I tore my gaze from the computer and focused on Tzvi.

“Why are you talking like that, Tzvi?”

“Like what?”

“Your mouth is weird.  Talk.  Say anything.  Wait.  Let me get Daddy.” (It doesn’t take much to get me into anxious mode.  Something was wrong, something was off, I could practically smell it.)

My husband was summoned, and all the younger kids wandered in to catch the action.  As Tzvi spoke, Lavi and I both concluded that something was most definitely wrong.  His speech was unclear and his lips seemed numb.

Our first step was to call the dentist, whom Tzvi had visited the week before.  Based on our description, he informed us that Tzvi’s problems were not dental related.  He advised us to call our pediatrician.

My husband attends a Mishna Berurah shiur nightly.  A local doctor is part of the shiur and Lavi promised me that he’d ask the doctor what he thought about all this.

I waited with bated breath, barely concealing my rising panic.  An hour later Lavi called.  I took the phone into the bathroom for some peace and quiet.  Lavi’s voice was rattling on about speaking to Dr. Rosenblum.  I waited for the verdict.

“He thinks it’s probably Bell’s Palsy,” he finally said.

“What?  What do you mean?  What are you saying?”

“Wait.  I’ll put him on.”

The doctor’s voice did nothing, absolutely nothing, to make me feel calm.

“I can stop by to look at Tzvi now, if you want, but it is probably Bell’s Palsy.  Don’t worry.  It’s a condition that causes the facial muscles to weaken or become paralyzed.”

My mouth felt as if it was filled with sand.

“But, that’s terrible!  He’s paralyzed?”

“Calm down, it’s only temporary.  And quite common.  It’s not a big deal.”

“How temporary?”

“That, I can’t say.”

He came to look at Tzvi, and then I asked Tzvi to smile, to really try his hardest to smile, but try as he might, the right side of his mouth remained a straight line, resulting in a lopsided look.

Next day we took him to his pediatrician who agreed with Dr. Rosenblum’s original diagnosis.

My husband took Tzvi to chat with our Rav to make sure that Tzvi would experience this nisayon in a focused, Toradig way.  I remained paralyzed in a state of denial for a good few days.  How could this happen?  He had practiced laining for over a year and now he won’t be able to lein? And what about the party and the speech and the photos?

Slowly, I spoke to the right people and begged Hashem to help give me give Him nachas. I emerged wan but determined to be strong.  It could be worse.  More and more people whom we mentioned it to knew both kids and adults who had experienced Bell’s Palsy and had emerged totally intact, hale and healed, from the episode.

Tzvi was the one who actually gave me the most chizuk. I was lamenting to him how I wished it could be me with the Bell’s Palsy instead of him.

“Why, Ma?”

“It bothers me that you have to go through this a week before your bar mitzvah.”

“Ma, if Hashem gave it to me, it’s supposed to be for me, not you.”

The days marched on.  Tzvi became more adept at speaking clearly, thus he would be able to lein after all.  We made up with our accommodating photographer that he would only take the party photos and wait until my son recovered to take the ‘informals’.  He told me he’d try his hardest to take the party photos of Tzvi from his ‘good’ side.

Talking to the photographer brought back a hazy memory of us standing in the backyard deciding which spot would be the best for the  upcoming photos.  “It’s very important that you work hard to get a natural smile out of my son,” a very determined and anxious Peshie had jabbered.  “His usual smile is so stilted.”

Silly girl.  Why weren’t you happy that he had a usual smile?  Don’t you know that smiles are gifts?  Don’t you know that you are entitled to nothing, even grins, in This World?  It’s all a brachah; every blink, every jump, every trip made safely to the store and back.

Silly girl did not know.  Silly girl wanted her perfect party with her perfect dress and her baby’s perfect hair band and her son’s perfect cuff link shirt and the perfect centerpieces.  And of course, Silly Peshie would be the one to determine what perfect entailed.

But A Little Bit Wiser Now Peshie forced herself back again and again, back to thinking that it could have been worse, that Tzvi would be able to lein after all, that in the long run, the nachas and beauty were all still there for the taking.

Chasdei Hashem, he lained beautifully and did a superb job on his pshetl. And the centerpieces and hair bows and foods and everything were lovely.  Most lovely of all was the smile on his face two weeks later when we stood in the backyard taking photos.

This episode is all in the past, it came and went, leaving no more lasting effects than an outbreak of poison ivy.  We see Tzvi now and it is as natural and normal as the smiles of his siblings.  But I hope that there was a lasting effect after all, the realization that it’s all in His Hands.

Now, that’s something to smile about!